


The Warning.

by Ella_Blackheart



Series: The Holy Blood. [3]
Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Incest, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ella_Blackheart/pseuds/Ella_Blackheart
Summary: Logan and Lenna take an undercover trip to a foreign land, where they are faced wit a possible consequence of their relationship. Set Before The first Chapter of Broken Loyalties.





	The Warning.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS INCEST AND VIOLENCE, AS WELL AS OTHER MATURE THEMES, IF YOU ARE BOTHERED BY ANY OF THOSE SUBJECTS PLEASE REFRAIN FROM READING.

 

***

Bliss. Glorious bliss and sweet satisfaction. If only Lenna could bottle the smell of those feelings, mix them with the exotic scent of fresh Samarkandian orchids, and spray it all over Albion, maybe she would finally be able to stand the foul stench of its people.  
  
They had sneaked out of the castle, a bit after midnight. As it was Logan's habit, they hadn't told anyone about their trip, or their destination. He had only left a note for his staff in the palace, letting them know that the both of them -Logan and Lenna- would be gone for about a month, give or take a few weeks.  
  
Lenna's nineteenth birthday, and the first anniversary of their... relationship? No, that term would imply there had been nothing between them before, and Logan and Lenna had been together -albeit in a much different way- since the beginning of her life. It was only in the last year, however, when they had finally admitted the true nature of the feelings they held for each other, and really acted upon them. In any case, they were celebrating, and it had been Logan's idea to commemorate the occasion with a trip to Finisterre.  
  
Lenna had never been away from Bowerstone Castle for too long. And only a few times before, had she visited the Finisterran empire. But she had been far too young, and state visits left little time to really explore a foreign land.  
  
Nobody in the ship knew who they really were. It was a Finisterran vessel, with a Finisterran crew, and Logan had registered them under their mother's maiden name, 'Sicard'. They posed like a young couple, on their way back home after a long stay in Albion. And, with Logan's perfect domain of the language, and Lenna's absolute silence, there was no reason for anyone to believe otherwise.  
  
Their cabin smelled like salt and wood. And, after the first couple of days, the aroma of their own bodies began to impregnate it as well. It was the smell of freedom, careless indulgence, and hope. Lenna wanted to capture that scent and make it the perfume of their future together.  
  
She rested her head on Logan's chest, and the both of them watched Albion disappear into the horizon from the small window of their compartment. Lenna felt his breathing and muscles relaxing under her, the moment their kingdom was finally out of sight.  
  
"Sometimes I dream about getting on a ship, never to return again." He whispered, and she could hear the longing in his voice.  
  
"Why would you want to leave Albion?!" She asked, although her real question should have been 'Why would you want to leave me?'.  
  
"It's only a dream, Lenna." He sighed, and stroked her hair gently. "Nothing more."  
  
Logan got out of the bed and walked towards the small window, the last lights of the sunset casting all sorts of colors on his naked skin.  
  
"I'm chained to Albion, as much as it is chained to me." His voice was calmed, full of resignation. "It's just like our mother said..."  
  
"What did she say?" Lenna moved closer, and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. The only residues of their kingdom were some tiny dots of light on the skyline.  
  
"When our father died, she told me: 'Logan, from now on your life is no longer yours, but for Albion and for your sister'." He answered.  
  
"Mother always knew how to take a bad moment, and make it worse, didn't she?" Lenna held him close and thought for a second. "So, if for any reason you were to lose the kingdom... Your life would be only for me, am I right?"  
  
"Lenna!" Logan turned to face her and frowned. "Even with the kingdom, my life is already yours. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have time for anything else."  
  
"That is so not true." Now it was her turn to frown. "You still have time to go on your stupid expeditions!"  
  
"If it weren't for my travels, I would have jumped off the highest tower of the castle a long time ago!" He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Let's not waste this trip on fighting, alright?  It may be a long time before we can be together like this again."  
  
She shook her head, but decided to let him be. After all, Logan was right, the opportunity to be able to walk out in the open like a normal couple was far too precious to waste. Besides, she hoped the happiness of the experience would convince him to stop hiding altogether.  
  
* * *  
  
They had spent three wonderful days in the Finisterran city of Charité, the most important port on the southern side of the empire.  
  
"I just can't believe how upscale everything is around here!" Lenna couldn't help but feel impressed by the enormous amount of wealth and luxury that surrounded them. It made Albion feel penurious in comparison. "Have you noticed how there aren't any beggars on the streets?"  
  
"That's because begging and soliciting is strictly forbidden." Logan, who had traveled a lot more than her, moved around Charité completely impassive. "It doesn't mean there is no poverty in Finisterre, only that Emperor Augustin and Empress Mireille keep it well hidden."  
  
"Maybe we should start doing the same in Albion. Avo knows the scenery would be a lot more pleasant, if we kept all those horrible paupers hidden from view." Lenna shook her head. One of the many reasons why she hated to leave Bowerstone Castle was the hideousness of the people that surrounded it. "In any case, Is it true what they say about Empreor Augustin and his wife? Are they really... you know... cousins?"  
  
"That's just a rumor." Logan shook his head, he was not as fond of gossip as she was. "Besides it is not something the people of Finisterre wants to talk about in public."  
  
"So it must be true." Lenna smiled. If the monarchs of the world's most prestigious empire could get away with marrying among family, there was no reason for her and Logan to keep hiding. "Maybe we are not as... weird... as you think we are."  
  
It was an extremely pleasant experience, to be nothing but a regular pair of lovers, walking hand in hand through crowded streets. Shrouded in anonymity, they were able to kiss and hold each other without the ever-present fear of discovery.  
  
Yet again, without their royal status, people showed them a lot less reverence than what Lenna was used to. Without her princess title, she was only a girl of moderate wealth for Finisterran standards. Nobody would go out of their way just to please her.  
  
It felt like a heavy price to pay, just to be able to kiss Logan in public.  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't understand why we had to travel undercover!" Lenna began to protest at the beginning of their second week. They were having breakfast on a terrace that overlooked the whole city, and the whole setting of white and golden -as in covered in actual gold- buildings was just so high end and glorious, that it made her own kingdom -and herself- feel subpar.  
  
"Because if I was to announce my presence here, instead of a leisure trip we would have a state visit." Logan explained calmly. It was almost miraculous how his demeanor improved while he was away from Albion. "And, if they were to know I'm here with you, things could get a lot more complicated."  
  
"Why?" Lenna pouted, and pushed a small grape around her plate.  
  
"Because when a king visits a foreign kingdom in the company of his young, unmarried, sister, it usually means only one thing." Logan looked into her eyes.  
  
"And what would that be?" Lenna asked, and popped the fruit into her mouth.  
  
"It means I'm selling, if they're buying." Logan smirked. "Or to say it bluntly, it means I'm willing to marry you off to make an alliance."  
  
"That's..." Lenna couldn't even finish her sentence. The though of marrying anyone other than Logan had never even crossed her mind.  
  
She had heard that royalty never really married out of love. But her own father had married a commoner, a famous ballerina from the very kingdom they were visiting. Lenna would have considered it very romantic. However, King Jacques had not been a highborn himself and -even worse-, at one point in his life, he had been nothing but a street urchin. Lenna took a deep breath and clenched her fist around the fork. Her father's miserable origins were just too embarrassing.  
  
"Don't worry." Logan pulled her out from her train of thought. "I have no intention of sacrificing you like that. You will be able to marry whomever you choose."  
  
"No I won't" Lenna looked at him and sighed. "Because the one I want to marry doesn't want to marry me."  
  
She felt compelled to put some pressure on Logan. After all, they had been lovers for a year and he wasn't giving any signs of wanting to make it official.  
  
"It's not that simple, Lenna." He adverted his gaze from hers.  
  
"There is precedent, you know?" Lenna wasn't much for studying, in fact she found most books to be awfully convoluted and impossible to read -If Berttie the Bunny couldn't explain it, chances were Lenna couldn't understand it-. But when it came to Logan and her being together, she was willing to put  out an extra effort and do some research -which basically consisted in having one of her maids do the reading, and then explain it to her in simple terms-. "Not only among royalty, but also among the children of Heroes. Our blood is precious, Logan, we cannot be diluting it by breeding with strangers. We must keep it pure!"  
  
"That was hundreds of years ago, Lenna. The world has changed." He stood up from the table, and leaned on the terrace's banister. "Can you imagine what our parents would have said, if they were still alive? Do you really think they'd approve?"  
  
"Well, the good thing is I don't have to think about it." She stood up and leaned beside him. "And neither have you."  
  
"See that building over there?" Logan pointed towards an impressive, fortress-like structure, that rose right in the center of the city. "They call it 'The Abbey'. That's where they send young women whenever they do something to shame their families. Most of them are released within six or seven months. However, there are some who remain locked in all their lives. That's exactly the place our parents would have sent you, had they ever learned about our... unusual activities?"  
  
"You are only saying it to shock me! "Lenna smacked him on the arm, and pouted. "Where would they have sent you, anyways?"  
  
"Oh, I know exactly the place in Albion where they would have locked me in." Logan looked into her eyes. "Assuming, of course, that father did not just kill us with his bare hands."  
  
"You are lying! You are just making up stories to frighten me!" Lenna frowned, and crossed her arms in a sign of defiance. "Our father would never have harmed us. He was the most benevolent Hero that ever lived!"  
  
"You're right. I'm just trying to scare you." He sighed, defeated. His eyes, however, were still fixed on the large building. "They are both gone now. At least on that regard, we have nothing to worry about."  
  
"Didn't we agree there would be no fighting on this trip?" She said and kissed him lightly on the cheek. There was no point in pressuring him any further. "We are here, and we are together. That's all that matters for now."  
  
Lenna touched his face, gently leading him to face her. She pressed her lips against his, and, although it took him a few moments, he eventually kissed her back.  
  
"I love you, Logan. Do you know that?" She whispered when they parted for breath.  
  
He just nodded, and pulled her in for another kiss. He was not a man of words. Never, not even once, had he ever told Lenna that he loved her.  
  
But she knew that, just because he never said the words, it did not mean the feelings were not there. She could tell from the way his lips captured hers, and the tender -and at the same time needful- way he held her. Lenna was aware that Logan loved her, the problem was that she never knew just how much. Or even if it was in the same way that she loved him.  
  
* * *  
  
The thought haunted her even on that very night, when he was laying underneath her, and her body was clenching tightly around his.  
  
He was such a beautiful sight. His porcelain pale skin made a striking contrast with his midnight black hair. With the exception of a few scars, his complexion was, just like hers, clear and unmarked. All milky white, with the strategically placed trail of black hair. The only distraction from such a monochromatic perfection were the half circles underneath his eyes, where the illness that afflicted him through all his life had painted his face with reds and purples.  
  
Naked, in the dim light of their chambers, Logan was the perfect image of a tragic hero. And, in his own way, he was painfully handsome.  
  
Lenna could not stand it. She knew other women before her had been blessed with such a glorious sight. She wondered how many of those slatterns had found him just as wonderful as she did. Probably all of them.  
  
Had he found them beautiful? Of course he had! Why else would he have shared his bed with them? The real question -the one that really burned inside Lenna's heart- was if he had found any of them to be more beautiful than her.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" He asked, and Lenna realized she had been so lost in thought that he had ceased her ministrations upon Logan's body.  
  
"You need to eat more." She traced her fingers over his ribcage, and slowly began to move her hips once again. "You're starting to look emaciated, and that is not very attractive."  
  
She couldn't let him believe he was handsome. She feared that, the moment Logan realized his own worth, he would also see just how plain and replaceable she could be.  
  
"Lenna..." He whispered into her ear later on, when the both of them laid side by side completely exhausted. "... Why don't we just elope together?"  
  
At last, there is hope. She thought and fell asleep in his arms.  
  
* * *  
  
Lenna woke up alone the next morning. A regular occurrence, given that Logan was Albion's biggest insomniac, and never slept for more than two hours straight. What she wasn't expecting, however, was to hear voices outside their bedroom.  
  
She dressed up as fast as she could, cursing that Jasper, her butler, wasn't there to have her clothes prepared in advance. After a brief struggle with laces and ruffles, she stepped out into the sitting room of their suite, looking as lovely as ever.  
  
Logan was there already, engaged in conversation with another man. Lenna stood on the doorway for a moment, staring right at them, trying to figure out the identity of their visitor.  
  
He appeared to be around Logan's real age -his illness, combined with the pressure of ruling over a kingdom, made her brother look almost a decade older. People found it hard to believe there was only a four year difference between both siblings-. The stranger was dressed in expensive clothes, and his strawberry blond hair had been carefully trimmed. He was definitely a highborn. And, from the calmed way in which he acted around her brother, Lenna could tell he was also royalty.  
  
"Prince Philippe!" Lenna forced a smile, and greeted the third-born son of the Finisterran emperors. "Such a pleasant surprise!"  
  
"Lana, ma chère, always so formal!" Philippe -who couldn't get her name right to save his life-, stood up and closed the distance between them. He took Lenna's face in his hands and placed a kiss on each one of her cheeks. It was a bit of an informal greeting, but a very Finisterran one. "You've grown into such beauty, since the last time I saw you!"  
  
The last time she had seen Philippe of Finisterre was a few years back, at his wedding. Philippe had been married at an exceptionally young age to a princess from a faraway land in the east.  
  
"I thought you were no longer living in Finisterre." Lenna could not hide her surprise. Logan told her he had taken every measure to hide their presence, specially from the royal family. "How did you...?"  
  
"Oh, ma chère!" Philippe grinned, probably amused by the dumbfounded look on her face. "Do you really think my dearest friend's presence could go unnoticed to me?"  
  
"I would have written to you, Philippe, but..." Logan began to explain.  
  
"I know." The Finisterran prince interrupted him. "You don't wan to turn this into a state visit. And you could not know I was going to be around either. Don't worry, rest assure I did not take it personally."  
  
"I didn't think you would." Her brother smiled.  
  
Philippe and Logan had been really close friends during their childhood, and most of their adulthood. Lenna had some memories of the Finisterran prince spending time like a guest in Albion, and of Logan leaving for Finisterre. Until Philippe's marriage, and subsequent departure to his wife's kingdom.  
  
"As of now, I find myself here attending to some affaire familiale." Philippe said, while gently escorting Lenna by the hand so she could sit next to her brother. "A delicate matter, something we cannot delegate to strangers."  
  
She could see why Logan and Philippe were friends. The Finisterran prince irradiated a natural sense of carelessness and joy, something the king of Albion desperately needed. On his part, Philippe was a chatterbox, and required someone naturally quiet who could listen to all his ramblings.  
  
"Is May here...?" Lenna asked about his wife.  
  
"Mei, it's pronounced Mei. And no, oh no!" Philippe paced around the room. "My beloved Mei could not join me in such a delicate endeavor. It was better for her to stay home with our sons."  
  
"It must be quite a sensitive situation..." Logan tilted his head and reinserted himself into the conversation. "...If it required you to leave your family behind. May I ask..."  
  
"Enough about me!" Philippe halted his pacing abruptly, for the briefest of moments his expression shifted from cheerful to anxious and back again. He then moved close to Lenna and held her face between his hands once more. "Look at this beautiful young lady, mon ami. We should introduce her to my brother Gustave at once!"  
  
"What?!" Lenna yanked her face off Philippe's hands.  
  
"We are not looking for that sort of alliance at the moment." Logan intervened. "I'm just bringing Lenna here on a leisure trip to celebrate her birthday, remember?"  
  
"Je vois... je vois..." The Finisterran prince took a couple of steps back, and sat on a chair. "No pressure. Only I know you're here, and you know I would never tell on you. My lips are sealed. I'm... how do you say?... Quiet like a mouse!"  
  
"Good!" Lenna held tightly onto Logan's arm.  
  
"Although, what purpose is there for us princes, if not to tighten the relationships between our nations?" Philippe leaned forward. "Maybe my little brother Gustave is not the best option. I mean, with such a beautiful face, our little Lana could have a chance with... Maximilian."  
  
"Lenna. My name is Lenna!" She cried out, but apparently no one was listening.  
  
"Maximilian, you say?" Logan straightened himself, and released his arm from Lenna's hold.  
  
Maximilian, Philippe's much older brother, was the crown prince -ergo future emperor- of Finisterre.  
  
"I don't see why not!" Philippe's smile widened. "She is a lovely princess. And my brother is getting far too old to be single. People are starting to talk, and not just abut the things we all know to be true! Such a union would put an end to the rumors, and eventually turn your sister into our most wonderful empress. And that, mon ami, could be of great benefit for Albion."  
  
"But Maximilian is almost twice my age!" Lenna protested.  
  
"And prefers the company of men, ma chère." Philippe added nonchalantly. "But you wouldn't be marrying the man, you'd be marrying the position."  
  
"I'm sure there are other princesses with a better claim to become empress." Logan tilted his head. "For example, princess Nadya of Nivengard, she is..."  
  
"Her brother Vladimir is already married to my sister Gabrielle." Philippe waved his hand dismissively. "If Nivengard is going to have a Finisterran tzarina, there is no point in Finisterre having a Nivengardian empress. It would be redundant! Besides, haven't you talked to Nadya lately?"  
  
"I haven't talked to anybody, except for the ambassadors in Albion, and only for state matters." Logan let out a weary sigh. "You know I don't have neither the disposition, nor the time to keep up with all the meddlings of international royalty."  
  
"Well, mon ami..." Philippe grinned again. "Our dearest Nadya of Nivengard has made it quite clear that she is only interested in one crown in particular, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Enough!" Lenna stood up abruptly. One thing was to have them both toying with the idea of marrying her off to some stupid prince, but to have this Finisterran idiot to suggest some royal skank for her Logan was completely unacceptable. She stormed out of the room and into the nearest balcony.  
  
Tears of rage rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't bear to even imagine Logan getting married to some other princess. To be abandoned and replaced.  
  
"Lenna... " She heard him whispering in her ear, and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace. "Don't worry. I truly have no intention of marrying you off..."  
  
She silenced him with two fingers on his lips.  
  
"It's no that." She said between sobs. "Oh, Logan, to think of you..."  
  
"I see." He touched her forehead against hers and smiled. "You don't have to worry. I have no intention of ever getting married... to anyone."  
  
"Good." She looked into his eyes, not really caring about the other implications of his words. "Because if you marry someone other than me, I promise you I'll kill myself on your wedding day."  
  
"Don't say such things." He said and pressed his lips against hers. This time it was Lenna who took a moment before kissing him back.  
  
"I believed I misjudged the situation." Philippe's voice spoke loud and clear from behind them. "My apologies."  
  
They parted quickly and turned to face the Finisterran prince, who was looking at them fro the doorway.  
  
"Philippe..." Logan tried to speak, but the other man shook his head.  
  
"It's alright. I am in no position to pass any kind of judgment." Philippe's attitude confirmed Lenna's suspicions. The Emperor and Empress of Finisterre were indeed cousins. "However, mes amis, I must insist for you to come with me tonight. There is someone I need you to meet."  
  
* * *  
  
The journey in Philippe's carriage was long and bumpy. The Finisterran prince insisted on making conversation just about anything, be it the shape of the moon, or last season's events. He kept on speaking, despite the lack of response from both of his companions. Lenna could smell the unease on him, and the fear.  He was talking just so he wouldn't have to face the silence.  
  
Logan was sitting beside her with his arms crossed, pretending he was listening to Philippe's incessant chattering. But, from the way he tilted his head, it was evident -at least to Lenna- the king of Albion was looking for an indicator on where it was that they were going to.  
  
She was more annoyed than anything else. She knew it did not matter where Philippe was taking them, or who he wanted them to meet. At the end of the day, and after what happened back in their suite, she was expecting a very elaborate lecture on the unholiness of Logan and Lenna's relationship. She did not care for preaching. Nobody, not even Philippe -or his parents, for that matter- could possibly understand neither what made Logan and Lenna so unique, nor why the rules of mundane society did not apply to them.  
  
The carriage stopped on the edge of a narrow path, almost three hours away from the nearest population. From the salty smell in the air, Lenna could tell right away that they were near the shoreline. They had departed from Charité right after dusk, and now it was almost dawn.  
  
Philippe urged them to go ahead through the path, while he exchanged a few words with the driver. When Logan insisted on knowing what was going on, the Finisterran prince answered -with the slightest bit of shame- that they were not supposed to be there, and he needed to pay the coachman for his silence. As for the rest, he said, the siblings would have to just see it with their own eyes.  
  
The walk to the beach took them a few minutes. Lenna was happy to stretch her legs after spending the night inside a carriage. As they approached, the imposing figure of a garrison became visible on the horizon. Unlike most buildings in Finisterre, this one was neither covered in gold, nor decorated in any other way. It was dark and grim, like an awkward silence in the middle of a lively conversation.  
  
It was only until they reached the edge of the shore, that they could finally see that the fort stood right in the middle of the ocean.  
  
"We must wait for the tides to change before we can approach." Philippe explained, his once cheerful demeanor now clouded with an unusual solemnity.  
  
There was something ominous in the air, Lenna could smell it underneath the salt and Philippe's cologne. She exchanged glances with Logan, wondering if they should have brought any kind of weapon. Her brother simply shrugged, and turned to his friend.  
  
"What is it that you have in there?" He asked, trying to sound as calmed and indifferent as ever.  
  
"Not a what, a who..." Philippe answered. "And, like I said before, you'll just have to see for yourselves."  
  
Eventually, the waters receded enough to reveal a narrow corridor made of stone that led all the way to the garrison's gates. Careful not to slip, the trio walked in silence. Once they were close enough to see, Lenna noticed the huge, pointed spikes, that rose from the top of the wall surrounding the building. They were angled both towards the outside and the inside of the fortress. She could not tell if they were meant to prevent an invasion or an escape.  
  
The gates of the fortress were massive, heavy. It would have taken a battering ram to force them open, and there was no way anyone could pass such large siege weaponry through the narrow corridor. Two fully armored guards stood very still by the fortress' entrance. Neither of them gave any indication that they had seen Philippe and the siblings approaching.  
  
"We have four of the best former captains of our army assigned to guard this place." The Finisterran prince explained. "Officially, they died in battle. The truth is they agreed to sacrifice themselves in exchange for titles and riches for their families."  
  
"Sacrifice themselves?" Logan asked.  
  
"In order to be able to fulfill their duty." Philippe took a deep breath, ashamed of what he was about to say. "My parents had them blinded and silenced forever."  
  
"What use can blind soldiers be?" Lenna scoffed. It all seemed pointless to her.  
  
Philippe did not answer. He simply reached down to grab a small rock from the side of the corridor, and  threw it at one of the guards. The man caught it mid-flight.  
  
"Impressive." Logan nodded slightly. He had always been fascinated by that sort of discipline. "Your parents must be very concerned about someone sneaking in there."  
  
"It's not about someone breaking in." Philippe shook his head. "But someone breaking out."  
  
  
The guards crossed their long battle axes over the gates as soon as they sensed their presence. Logan stared in silent enthrallment at their masked faces. Knowing him, Lenna thought, he was probably trying to imagine how it would feel like to be one of those blind and silent, killing machines.  
  
Philippe said a few words in Finisterran, and the men allowed them into the fortress. The inside of it was every bit as gloomy and fortified as the exterior. Lenna noticed the rocks on the inner walls had been thoroughly smoothed and polished, making it virtually impossible for anyone to climb them up. Was this place some sort of prison, where all those who -like Logan and Lenna- dared to join in an 'unholy' union were sent to rot? She wondered. But other than themselves, and the guards outside, there was not another soul in sight.  
  
Lenna closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled. There was the smell of salt from the ocean that surrounded them, and that of Philippe's anxiety, mixed with sweat and expensive cologne. Also the unique smell of her blood, the only human smell Lenna did not find repulsive, and that was exclusive to just Logan and herself. She discarded all those scents, and focused on finding the more subtle ones.  
  
There was fresh food somewhere, and not the kind of meals usually served to soldiers or servants. Lenna could smell the aroma of the finest meats, and the most expensive wines. There was also the unmistakeable scent of fine fabrics, both in furniture and vestments. The princess of Albion took a few more breaths, and in them she could notice books, silverware, and even some gold. No, this place did not smell like a prison, but like a palace.  
  
"Someone lives in here." She opened her eyes and stated confidently.  
  
"Yes." Philippe answered, not even asking how it was that she figured it out. "The both of you must stay hidden, however. He doesn't take well to strangers."  
  
Quiet, like a triad of mice, they moved through dark hallways. There was still no sign of this strange residence's mysterious inhabitant. Lenna started to wonder if Philippe was trying to play some sort of elaborate prank on them. Or maybe he just didn't know how to look.  
  
As discreetly as she could, Lenna slowed her pace, putting more and more distance between both men and herself. Their scents were too distracting. Once they were far enough, Lenna closed her eyes once again, and allowed her nose to wander among the many smells of the place in search for another human.  
  
The aroma was very faint at first, similar to Philippe's but devoid of all perfumes. She took several more breaths, centering on that particular smell. As long as she remained focused, it was as if a golden trail appeared before her, invisible to her eyes, but plain and clear for her sensitive nose. Through halls and corridors, Lenna followed it, not even aware of the moment where she lost trace of both Logan and Philippe.  
  
The smell became stronger, until she no longer had to pay any special attention to it. Whomever she was looking for was just around the next corner. Lenna hurried her pace, eager to show her brother and his friend that it had been her who unveiled the mystery of the fortress' inhabitant. But when she finally reached the room, there was nobody in there.  
  
The princess stood there, dumbfounded. She could have sworn the one she was looking for was in there. She could smell him -the person's scent was definitely masculine- as clear as if he was standing next to her.  
  
Like a tiger hidden in the shadows, someone leaped violently towards her. Lenna screamed in shock and pain, as her body slammed against the stone floor. Her attacker looked down at her with curious eyes and smiled.  
  
"If you're an assassin, I am certainly not your target." She spoke fast and loud. "I am not even Finisterran! I'm from Albion! Do you understand me?"  
  
The man tilted his head, and his smiled widened. He lowered himself on top of Lenna, straddling her arms between his strong legs. She felt her body being crushed under the man's weight, and... and... she just could not breath!  
  
A recurring nightmare of hers replayed itself. An enormous man -not this one, someone else-, with yellow eyes, and a flowing mane of golden hair. His enormous hand around her neck, depriving Lenna of oxygen.  
  
She kicked and screamed at the top of her lungs. She was not even sure of who was really attacking her; one moment it was this man she had never seen before, another it was the giant from her nightmares.  
  
The stranger was not even bothered by her screams, he just held her face in his hands and trailed his thumbs across his cheeks. Lenna wondered for a moment if he would try to force himself into her, but she could not smell any sort of arousal coming from his body. No, he was not interested in raping her.  
  
Still smiling, he closed her eyelids with his thumbs, and kept them on top of her eyes for a moment, before he started pushing them back into their sockets, slowly but firmly. He was trying to blind her!  
  
"LENNA!" She heard Logan's voice, and felt her beloved yanking the man away from her. When she could open her eyes, she saw that he had grabbed her attacker from the hair and forced him to turn to look at Logan. Lenna took advantage of the moment, and crawled away.  
  
"Maximilian?!" Logan's eyes widened in shock. The stranger noticed the king's hesitation, and slammed his head against Logan's face.  
  
Lenna screamed again, when she saw blood trailing down her brother's nose. Logan did not seem to mind. He might not have any of their father's extraordinary powers, but he possessed an endurance beyond measure.  
  
"Hold him still, Logan!" She could see Philippe approaching the man, while her brother restrained him firmly. The Finisterran Prince, took a small glass syringe from his coat, and injected a clear fluid into the man's neck. The stranger struggled for a few seconds, and then fell unconscious.  
  
"What's going on here?!" Logan turned to face his friend, his face filled with rage. "Who is this man?!"  
  
"He is my brother, Alphonse." Philippe looked down at the man. "He is Maximilian's twin."  
  
"We have to kill him, now!" Lenna cried out. She searched the room for something she could use, and found a silver candelabrum. She was about to slam it against Alphonse’s head, but Logan stopped her.  
  
"Murdering royalty is a declaration of war." He said.  
  
Lenna pursed her lips. She wanted nothing more than to smash the brain of the man who tried to blind her. But she knew Finisterre was the most powerful empire in the world, and Albion could not afford to go to war against them.  
  
"I'm sure you know the rumors about my parents." Philippe's voice was filled with shame.  
  
"People say they're cousins." Lenna answered.  
  
"They are not." Philippe looked at them. "They are almost like you, only from a different mother."  
  
Logan opened his mouth, as if he was about to speak, but no words left his mouth.  
  
Lenna just dropped the candelabrum.  
  
"Alphonse is the result of love blooming where it shouldn't." Philippe continued, his eyes fixed on Logan. "He is dangerous, a murderer. And he is just a man. Can you imagine someone like him but with your father's powers?!"  
  
Logan shook his head, and stormed out of the room. Both Philippe and Lenna went after him. He was standing very still at the end of the hallway, his face paler than usual, and his dark eyes filled with a kind of terror Lenna had never seen before.  
  
"A deranged twin of the future emperor? You shouldn't have brought us here, Philippe." He said to his friend, his voice unusually fast, and laced with the slightest of tremors. "This is treason to your kingdom!"  
  
"This is loyalty to my friend." Philippe answered.  
  
Lenna had never seen Logan so upset. It frightened her. He was supposed to be the strong one, the almighty king of Albion. It was all Philippe's fault.  
  
"Well, when everyone hears..." Lenna began her threat.  
  
"You will not say a word!" Logan snapped at her. "Or else you'll be dead to me, Lenna."  
  
He had never spoken to her with such intensity. Lenna just nodded, absolutely certain that he meant it. She would never speak about this episode ever again.  
  
* * *  
  
Logan remained silent and distant on their way back to Charité. He flinched away from her touch, like she was cursed. Philippe had remained in the fortress, taking care of Alphonse, so it was just the two of them in the carriage.  
  
"He wants me for one of his brothers, Logan." She finally said. "Philippe is just trying to separate us so I will marry Maximilian!"  
  
"This is wrong, Lenna." He couldn't look her in the eyes. "You and I... it's not natural."  
  
"No, Logan, there is nothing unnatural about us being together." She reached out to touch his hand once more, but he pulled away from her. "We love each other, what is wrong with that?"  
  
"What if we..." He tried to speak, but she wasn't done yet.  
  
"It's a numbers game!" She insisted, not about to let Philippe -or anyone else- get between the both of them. Logan was the only man she could ever love, and she was the woman for him. That was the choice they had made. The other part of their relationship was an accident, something they should not be punished for. "Yes, Alphonse is... not well. But what about his other five siblings? Maximilian, Gabrielle, Gustave, Alain... even Philippe -who's only a jerk-, they are perfectly normal!"  
  
"But what if..." He insisted, but this time he did not reject her hand when she reached for him. "We cannot take the risk."  
  
"Then we will be careful." She squeezed his hand in hers. "And we can be together all our lives."  
  
"Albion will eventually need an heir." He shook his head.  
  
"I will do it. I will sacrifice myself for us!" She insisted, although the idea of laying with another man disgusted her. "... If you don't mind raising someone else's child"  
  
"You will do that for our kingdom?" He finally looked at her.  
  
"Screw the kingdom! I will do anything for you." She answered without hesitation. "I would kill for you, my love."  
  
Logan nodded softly and placed a soft kiss on her hand. Lenna was able to smile again.  
  
* * *  
  
Lenna was a drug, and he had relapsed into her bed once again, despite Philippe's warning. He woke up to her naked figure laying next to him, and wondered where all his resolve had gone. Full of guilt and shame, Logan left their room in search of some peace of mind.  
  
Wishing he could drown his sorrows in liquor like a normal person, he walked into the nearest tavern, where he ordered a glass of something he would never drink. He sat in a dark corner, staring down at the clear liquid, immersed in his own misery.  
  
It was just a coincidence that Logan happened to be there that night, at the very right moment when two men -mercenaries by their looks- were having a heated argument.  
  
"I'm telling you it is suicide! Aurora is a cursed land!" One of them told the other. "And, in any case, where will you find someone rich enough to finance your crazy expedition, and with such a death wish that they'd be willing to go with you?!"  
  
Logan looked up and smirked.


End file.
